i spent a good deal of the bank holiday weekend by myself. this is not a pity ploy, as i could easily have had company if i wanted it, but truth be told, i just really prefer my own company these days. which is just as well, i suppose, as it's not like i'm fending suitors off with a boot. i honestly don't care - i'm not bothered that i don't have "someone" to spend holidays and bank holidays with, because i do genuinely enjoy my own company, and for days when i don't, i have some incredible friends in my life who complete what parts of me are a bit incomplete on their own. sometimes though, being on your own for too long can sort of.. do more damage than good. you get all up in your head about things; you contemplate for far too long; you don't have conversations with rationale - not when you're talking to yourself.
basically - and not to get all existential on you, but, i don't really know what i'm doing anymore. my job is great, my team are amazing, and there are loads of opportunities for me to move forward with my career, so weirdly - that part of my life seems to be in control. i'm very much a "work to live" kinda gal, and would obviously sooner be off gallivanting around the world with never-ending buckets of money to spend frivolously on food and drink and hats and travel than grinding on a 9-5, but seeing as i need a job to live the life i have, i'm very lucky to have the job i do. no, i'm very glad i have the job i do. the confusion i'm feeling is more around my other life; this life. this online life.
it feels like the blogging game has shifted a lot over the last year or so, and has moved away from truly personal online spaces, to whichever platform is paying the most for the images of your camera roll. don't get me wrong: i need those extra pennies as much as the next person, but i do struggle to produce sponsored content that just isn't "me", or just feels all a bit "too hard". that might mean i'm lazy, and i'm ok with that, because honestly: i'm not here to play the game. i'm not here to write think pieces on feminism or fat shaming or why there's not enough diversity in blogging, and i'm not here to curate beautiful city guides or photo journals or blog posts full of whimsy; i just like writing words on the internet for my mum and friends and whoever else still reads them, to read. honestly, that's why i started this lark, and that's all i know.
dress and clogs : monki | top : primark | bag : skinnydip
i hope, anyway, i hope my personality is still what brings the readers to the yard, and not my amazing editing skills that leave my skin all washed out and super exposed; or the way i'm basically a supermodel in the way i awkwardly pose for photos on london streets; or the way i can't name a single beauty product that's on the market or contestant on love island. like, i'm out of touch, ok? i don't keep up, and i don't compete. and really, where does that leave me at the end of the day..?
please feel free to validate me and tell me i'm full of shit, because honestly this is what my brain has been telling me all afternoon, and if i didn't write it down here i don't think i would have slept tonight. in any case, i will always choose sleep over sense.
